One Way Glass
by cynically optimistic
Summary: When it comes down to it, you can really only look in one direction. House Cuddy vignette. Written for LJ rare pairings ficathon.


Title: One-Way Glass

Author: Cynically Optimistic

Characters: House/Cuddy (no romance)

Warnings/Spoilers: Nothing major

Summary: "When it comes down to it, you can really only look in one direction."

Disclaimer: House and its characters belong to people other than myself. No infringement intended.

A/N: Written for the LJ rare-pairings ficathon. Thanks to Eolivet for convincing me to try writing in yet another new fandom. Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

-/-

"We have forgotten that once, if only once, we saw the world before us, whole and green and alive with promise."

Holding the dregs of what had several minutes earlier been a rather large, and _almost_ out of her price range, glass of red wine up to her reflection in the glass wall before her, Lisa Cuddy allowed herself a brief smile. As she did so, she slowly closed her eyes, vaguely wondering at what precise point in this evening's impulsive escape, had she gone from citing medical board reviews to a room full of bored executives to quoting semi-obscure Canadian literature to an audience of one. Ignoring the little disapproving voice in the back of her mind that pointedly suggested it was around the bottom of glass number two, she allowed herself a much-deserved sigh, letting the steady whir of ventilation that reminded her of her locale, fade into the background.

"Are you _drunk_?"

The words, accompanied by the rhythmic beat of wood on hospital tile, cut through the air, hanging expectantly. Unfortunately some background noises were harder to tune out than others, no matter how much practise you seemed to get. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see an ominous shadow looming in the doorway but, for tonight at least, she was damned if she was going to rise to the bait.

Letting her shoulders relax further into the swivel chair, her voice carried lightly across the room.

"I may well be."

"Well, can I ask what you're doing in _my_ office…?" There was a pause. If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he sounded genuinely confused. "… In the dark?"

Now _that_ was a much more interesting - and infinitely more complicated - question.

Her subconscious neither ready nor willing to come up with a verbal rejoin, she instead waggled the now drained vessel in his direction.

Seemingly torn between a begrudging human curiosity and mild irritation over the lack of a willing sparring partner, she sensed him drawing further into the room.

"What the fu…?" A jarring crash and the sound of metal meeting carpet and cane broke through the protracted silence, followed by a string of muffled expletives. Regaining his balance, House took a deep breath, pill bottle already magically in his grasp.

"Let me guess. You felt I needed some more in the way of physical challenges, so you decided to sneak in here with the booze, have yourself a good time and turn my office into an obstacle course while you were at it?"

"Ssssshhhh", she hissed vehemently, her gaze now venturing beyond her reflection. "They'll hear you."

Letting her attention slip back to the scene which had entranced her when she'd first rampaged empty handed into House's deserted office a little over an hour ago, she still couldn't place exactly what it was that had given her a sudden craving for a drug other than caffeine, but, if anything, her sense of it was growing more acute.

Separated by the glass partition, less than ten feet away yet seemingly oblivious to their onlookers, House's trio of underlings occupied their usual positions around the plated rectangular table. Spread around them alongside the typical array of papers and medical texts, were a host of artefacts that Cuddy could only assume were the by-product of their latest crime spree in the name of diagnostic medicine. Yet what had initially caught her attention was the over-sized bottle of cheap imported tequila placed strategically between them.

Eyeing the faint image reflected back beside her, she was strangely relieved to see House struggling to prevent the genuine smile which was in danger of gracing his features. Bringing it back under control, he turned back to her, his face contorting into an expression of mock horror.

When she spoke again, she was surprised to hear that the emotion in her voice was not panic, but wonder.

"I think they're playing _poker_."

House shrugged nonchalantly.

"Hey, gambling on hospital property still falls into the 'bad' category, right? Like no sex in the clinic, and no practical jokes involving body-parts and the cafeteria?" He took a moment. "I'd bust them for the drinking, personally. I mean that kind of behavior has to be frowned upon, right? I'd do it myself but sadly they may be too intoxicated to appreciate the irony. And anyway, it'd look better coming from the big chief." He glanced down appreciatively. "And I do mean _big_." He paused again, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the bottle perched precariously on the edge of the desk. "Of course, we might have to wait until she sobers up."

Whether it was the unspoken shift in dynamic, or something that cut a little deeper, Cuddy realised there had been an uncharacteristic falter inherent in the discourse.

There was something naggingly familiar about all this.

"Or else you could just shut up for once and join me."

The words were as much of a shock to her as they were to House.

"Why, Doctor Cuddy, do we need to have that little sexual harassment lecture again?" Pushing off from the corner of the table, he leant back against the glass, his eyes casually scanning the office. "See, you're my boss and…"

"Stop it. They'll see you." Ignoring his predictable routine, Cuddy motioned frantically as if force of will alone would move him away from the partition.

For a moment House looked vaguely concerned, but his expression soon gave way to amusement.

"Relax. It's one-way glass."

Cuddy turned, a look of disbelief painted across her features. Expectantly, House contorted his own face in an exaggerated mimicry. Resting his cane, with a measured ease, against the desk, he slid into the chair facing her.

"No, seriously. I had the maintenance guys do it last week when you were at your big meeting, or getting your nails done, or whatever it is you power-crazed working gals do for kicks nowadays." He paused again. "Hmmm. Should I be worried that not one of my sharp-witted, crack diagnosticians has even noticed yet… Although it's done _wonders_ for Chase's morning hair routine."

Wishing she had the energy to re-fill her glass, Cuddy watched as Dr. Cameron, giggling fitfully, reached across the table swatted Chase and thrust the tequila forcefully into Foreman's wary hand. After a moment's hesitation, her unfortunate colleague raised the bottle to his lips letting his expression register the unpleasant after-taste. Cuddy soon realised, she wasn't the only one watching intently.

As if sensing her observation her companion shifted. "And to remind us that we're both intellectually… and financially superior…" House reached theatrically into the filing cabinet behind him and pulled out a heavy bottle of Courvoisier setting it down with an atypical flourish. "Tada."

Cuddy eyed him suspiciously.

"You got that the 'intellectually superior' thing was just referring to me, right?" Again, the comment met with silence. "What? You want to go in there and _join_ them?"

The words should have been biting. But she couldn't help but notice, there was a certain veracity missing from his diatribe.

This time it was House who stopped as Foreman cockily flipped a well-aimed card at Chase's head while shooting Cameron a victorious look.

"We weren't always like this, were we?"

Cuddy's voice was softer than she intended. Feeling an unexpected prick against her eyelids, for a moment she could see the unknown quality reflected in eyes which weren't her own.

But only for a moment.

"Now that you mention it, I do remember this rather fun time a number of years back when I had use of both my legs."

"Greg." It was a warning he appeared to heed.

"But, don't you ever…"

He cut her off. Although, for once, his tone was almost gentle.

"I don't need to believe in ghosts."

On the other side of the window, the game appeared to be wrapping up. She inhaled sharply as for an eerie moment she found herself trapped in a pair of soulful eyes looking up from the scattered cards around them. With a quizzical frown, Allison Cameron swept up the contents of the table, with a smooth shake of her head sweeping her long brown hair back over her shoulder.

Looking back up, Cuddy realized she was once again alone in the room. But House's parting words echoed down the corridor behind him.

"When it comes down to it, you can really only look in one direction."

/end


End file.
